Don't Stop
by Kitten With A Tie
Summary: Four cats, Mist, Flare, Mud, and Stream, are regular loners. They travel a lot, not staying in one place for long. But when Mist has her kits they are forced to stay in the Clan's territory. Will they keep traveling, or will they stay with the Clans forever? Please review, flames are allowed.
1. Chapter 1: Birth

_Wind blew through the trees, ruffling the fur of four cats. One cat lay sprawled through the grass, sides heaving, teeth gritted with pain. Another cat had his paw on her belly, his pale green eyes focused. The other two cats were both pacing, eyes clouded with worry and anxiety._

"Well?" demanded a brown tom, looking at the tom who was crouched over the she-cat. He ignored him. "Flare, will she be alright?"

The tom glared at the pacing tom. "You're acting like a cat has never kitted before!" he snapped. "I'm trying my best. There are barely any herbs around here."

The brown tom scratched the snow covered ground before pacing some more. Flare ran his paw along her belly, and the she-cat let out a wail of pain.

"Alright, Mist. The first kit is coming." he mewed. "You need to push!" The she-cat was screeching loudly, her eyes wide. A wet bundle slipped through the moss.

"Stream!" A blue grey she-cat immediatly raced over. "Lick the kit so he can breath. It's a tom," he added to the queen as Stream licked the kit's fur the wrong way.

The brown tom raced over, sticking his nose over Flare's shoulder. "What color is his fur?" he demanded. The queen, a black she-cat, lifted her head weakly. "He is brown," she purred, before dropping her head.

"Okay, Mist. You need to push again." Mist cried out as another wet bundle slipped onto the moss.

The brown tom licked the small kit furiously, making sure that he wouldn't lose this kit.

Not like the last litter.

"You did a good job," Flare purred, taking a step back. Three kits lay in the moss, suckling on their mother. Two clumps of moss, damp with water and blood were strewn in the snow, and Stream nudged them away.

"We need to get to shelter," announced the brown tom. "We can't move them, Mud," Flare objected. "They aren't ready to move."  
"They'll die out in the open!" Mud snarled, bristling. Flare met his amber gaze calmly. "We can't move them."  
Mud hissed and moved over, picking up one of the kits. It squealed, moving its paws towards its mother, trying to get back to the milk.

"Mud." Mist murmured. "I'm fine. As long as we keep them warm, we'll be alright."  
"But what if a fox comes?" fretted the brown tom. "What will we do?"

"We're well hidden," replied the she-cat, flicking her tail towards the ferns that hid them from a hungry fox.

"We could at least move them towards that old tree," suggested Stream. "The roots are broken enough for us to get inside."

Flare nodded. "Of course. Do you agree?" He looked at Mud and Mist. The brown tom looked at his mate. "What do you think?"  
Mist flicked her tail. "I'll go anywhere with you," she purred. Stream and Mud picked up the kits and padded towards the old tree, while Mist scrambled to her paws and picked up the last kit, a black she-cat.

Flare and Stream found some new moss, since Mist's old nest was worn out with claw marks and the wet spots of kit.

Night came quickly, sending chilly winds through Mud and Flare's pelts as they kept watch. Stream was out hunting, and Mist was asleep, her kits were asleep too, after crying for a moon.

"You did a good job," Mud mewed to Flare, whose ginger pelt was fluffed out. "You wore a grove in the ground," teased the tom, flicking his tail to the snow, which was trampled with Mud's paw prints.

"You would've been worried too," Mud replied, sympathy in his voice. Flare stiffened, then sighed. "Willow would have made a wonderful mother," he whispered. Flare's mate, Willow, a beautiful pale grey she-cat, had been killed by a dog.

The cats had been traveling through a Twoleg place when a big black brute had chased them. Willow couldn't run fast with unborn kits in her belly, and the dog had caught her, sharp teeth ripping through her pelt and shaking her as if she was nothing more then a rabbit.

Her screeching had filled Flare's ears, and he had wailed and tried to help, but Mud held him back, saying that it would be no use.

"She is," replied Mud. "She is with StarClan." Flare snorted. "StarClan would not have taken her away from me." Even as loners, they had heard of the Clans, and believed in StarClan, since Flare had been a Clan cat, but had been exiled when he took Willow as a mate.

Mud sighed. "That's in the past." Flare clawed at a root beside him. "I will never forget Willow, if you will."

An icy wind sliced through his fur, and he shivered. "Where is Stream?" he grumbled. "She should be back by now." As he spoke, the blue she-cat emerged from the ferns, a rabbit in her jaws, along with a few mice.

"This place is full of prey!" she mewed, dropping it at their paws. "We should stay here." Mud nodded slowly. "Maybe we should," he meowed. "At least until the kits are old enough to walk and run."

Stream picked up his fresh-kill and padded into the hole, mewing a welcome to Mist. Flare yawned. "Do you want to guard by yourself?" he asked. Mud nodded. "I'm not tired. I could stay awake for a whole moon to protect my kits."

Flare felt a pang of jealousy ache in his chest. Mud had a mate and kits. That's what Flare had always wanted. Oh, how he longed to wake up and find Willow curled up next to him, then open up her blue eyes and purr warmly.

He nodded to Mud before padding into the tree. When his shoulders sagged he realized how tired he was. Mist was eating the rabbit, while Stream ate a mouse. "Have one," she smiled, flicking her tail at the three spare mice.

Flare grabbed it and padded over to a small patch of grass and eating it quickly. He turned his head, ears perked, when Mud squeezed himself through the roots that were wrapped around the entrance. "Wow!" he gasped, licking down his ruffled fur. "When you three came in, it looked easy."

The ginger tom couldn't surpress a purr of amusement. Mud seemed to lighten up any cat's day, even though he was tough and protective of those he cared about. "What did you name the black she-cat?" he heard Mud ask Mist. "I named her Night," replied the black she-cat. Mud purred loudly. "Perfect."

Flare curled up in his make-shift nest and sighed. It seemed that a mate and kits of his own wasn't a option. He dreamed of Willow, her blue eyes wide with panic and fear as the dog killed her.

She was wailing and crying out to him, but his paws were rooted to the ground, no matter how much he tried to help his mate.

"Please, save me!" she was screeching. "Why didn't you save me?"

_Why didn't I save her? _he screeched to himself.


	2. Chapter 2: Sand

The sound of hissing woke Flare, and he scrambled to his paws, claws unsheathed, expecting to see cats trying to get to the kits. He ran over to the entrance and pulled himself through and stood beside Mud.

Three cats, lips curled into threatening snarls, stood there, claws unsheathed. "Come any closer and I'll rip off your pelt!" Mud warned, lifting a paw.

"Why are you on ThunderClan territory?" a white tom hissed, his blue eyes glowing with anger. "We didn't know," growled Flare, standing beside his friend. "But we're not leaving!"

The white tom snarled and pounced, but a ginger tabby blocked him. The white tom squirmed in the grass for a moment before quickly getting back to his paws, shaking his pelt with embarresment.

Green eyes flashing, she glared at the white tom. "Do you have bees in your brain?" she snapped. "It's obvious that they are guarding kits."

Cloudtail sniffed the air before snorting. "Fine. But they shouldn't be here!" Hackles raised, Mud hissed. "We aren't leaving until our kits can walk," he declared. Flare growled in agreement.

A reddish brown tom bristled. "You shouldn't have even come here with those kits," he snarled. "Foxleap, be quiet," growled the ginger she-cat. "Last night, Brackenfur reported the sound of wailing and screeching. That must have been the she-cat having kits."

Foxleap glared at them, but let his fur lay flat. "We will allow you to stay here," she went on. "But you can't come five fox lengths from our camp. If you do, then our warriors are allowed to attack."

Flare admired her authority, but quickly shook the thought away and flicked his tail. _Remember, Flare, _he thought hotly, _these are the cats that exiled you. _Flare immediatly froze. _The cats who exiled you... _

"Wait!" The ginger cat's eyes widened. "I know you!" Her brilliant green gaze rested on Flare, and he blinked. "Flarepelt!" she exlaimed. The tom froze.

He hadn't been called that name in moons.

"Come back to ThunderClan," she insited, flicking her tail. Flare blinked. "This is my home now," he replied. "Bu-"  
"Flare has made his decision," Mud growled, stepping in front of the two cats. Cloudtail bristled, and Flare knew the hot-headed tom was going to attack.

Suddenly, yowling pierced the air, and a bundle of blue and ginger fur tumbled through the ferns. "Stream!" cried Flare. Sandstorm darted forward and grabbed a ginger tom with brown markings on his ears and tail, his amber eyes flashing with anger.

Stream stumbled backwards and lay in the snow, claw markings on he shoulder and sides. Flare rushed over and lapped his tongue over her wounds. Anxiety came off the she-cat in waves, and Flare glared at the tom.

"Thistlepaw!" scolded Sandstorm. "Why did you attack her?" Thistlepaw shook himself and glared at Sandstorm. "She's an intruder!" he snapped. "She was hunting in our territory."

Sandstorm sighed. "You could've at least asked what she was doing before you leaped into battle." He opened his jaws to retort, but she went on. "If you keep doing that, you'll probably leap into a battle you won't come out of."

Thistlepaw looked at his paws. "Sorry." he mumbled. Stream glared at him, pain flashing in her eyes before slumping down. "Do you want to come to camp and get your wounds treated?" offered Cloudtail.

Flare looked at him, surprised. He looked like the type to not help cats he didn't know or like. He opened his mouth to accept, but Mud quickly overtook him. "No thanks. But we'd gladly like to be able to use some of your herbs."

Sandstorm hesitated. "Alright. Even though it's leaf-bare, we can surely spare some." Flicking her tail, the cats disappeared into the ferns.

"Wew!" Mud slumped down. "Those cats are a pawfull. Are you alright, Stream?" The tabby hadn't spoken since she had returned, and her wounds had stopped bleeding, but she was letting out shaky breaths. "Come on."

Flare helped Stream to their temporary den, while Mud stayed behind, looking around to make sure that no cat took advantage of their injured friend.

Stream collapsed in a nest, sighing. "Did you catch anything?" asked Flare. "Yes," she murmured. "I caught a squirrel. I was stalking a mouse when that stupid cat pounced on me!" She clawed the moss. "I should've fought better."

Flare touched his nose to her ear. "Any cat would've made a mistake."

"Yeah, but there are kits here!" Stream meowed, flicking her ear towards Mist. "We can't make any mistakes."

Mud entered the den, carrying a squirrel. He dropped it. "I found your catch," he announced. "It wasn't far."

Stream licked one of her wounds; it had started to bleed again. _I hope those cats hurry up, _he thought.

The wound could get infected, and Sandstorm had said they didn't have many herbs to spare. His fur bristled when a yowl cut through the air. Mud looked at Stream. "Hide Mist and the kits over there." He flicked his tail at some roots that twisted outward, with one side covered with moss and twisted roots. Stream nodded and ran over the queen, explaining to her.

"Flare, come with me." The ginger tom nodded and followed the tom, his ears pricked and claws unsheathed, just in case the cats tried to force them to leave.

To his relief there was only one cat, which was Sandstorm. She dropped a leaf, which carried the sharp tang of herbs. "This is a leaf wrap," she explained. "There is dock, coltsfoot, marigold, catmint, and borage. There might be some cobwebs in that tree," she added.

Flare nodded and picked up the bundle. "Meet me at the lake at moonrise." Sandstorm's breath felt warm on his ear, and he looked up, expecting to see Willow. Willow had always whispered in his ear, telling him to meet him at places, so he could see her in the sky, her star shining brightly.

But the she-cat was there, and it was Sandstorm. _Doesn't she have a mate? _he thought bitterly, smelling the scent of another tom on her. _Cheeky she-cat. She's going to break a tom's heart for me._

The thought made him snort, and he carried the bundle back to the tree. "Is it clear?" Flare looked around. He couldn't see Stream anywhere, but then he saw her hiding in a pile of leaves. He let out a _mrrow _of amusement, seeing her blue tail lashing back and forth.

"Yep." he dropped the bundle. "Come here." He chewed up the marigold and rubbed it on her wounds. _Mouse dung! _Sandstorm didn't bring him any poppy seeds!

"If you feel any pain, tell me," he meowed. Stream nodded before padding towards the roots. "Wait!" he called. "Where are you going?"  
"Hunting," replied the she-cat. "Its getting dark. You should stay in your nest." Stream snorted, but obeyed.

Flare sighed. The real reason he didn't want her to leave is because he didn't want her to see him with Sandstorm. He curled up in his nest and fell into a dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3: Travels

A paw poking his side roused Flare, and he groaned and batted his paws at his poker. "Go away," he growled, turning over, and putting his paw over his nose. The paw prodded him again, and he glared at the blurry shape of cat. "Get away!" he snarled. "I'm trying to sleep!" His meeting with Sandstorm the previous night had tired him out, and he had come back at dawn. Flare remembered when Stream had picked up her head and looked at him curiosly.  
"Were you hunting?" she had mewed.

"Yeah," he lied.

"No luck?"  
"Um... yeah." Stream had snorted. Flare was a very good hunter, and he rarely had any bad luck.

"Get up, you lazy lump of fur!" Mud growled, nudging Flare roughly. "Those forest cats are here." Flare scrambled to his paws and padded after Mud, muttering to himself.

Four cats stood there. In front was a flame colored tabby with forest green eyes. Flare could tell he was 'leader' by the way he stood. Behind him stood a dusky brown tom with amber eyes, and behind him was Sandstorm. Thistlepaw was crouched behind her, poking at the snow with a sharp claw.

"Welcome to ThunderClan territory," mewed the flame colored tom. "I hope you enjoy your stay until your kits are ready to travel." Mud snorted, and Flare guessed that they wouldn't leave anyway if the kits were ready.

"This is mouse-brained, Firestar," complained the dusky brown tom. "We should just chase them out now." Mud bristled. "Come one whisker-length near our den and I'll claw off your ears!" The tom snarled, but the flame tomcat blocked him. "We come in peace. We wish you luck, please enjoy your stay." Firestar led the cats away.

"We should go hunting," Flare mewed when the cats were out of ear-shot. "And let those cats come and attack Mist, Stream, and the kits? I don't think so." Flare sighed. "Fine. I'll go hunting near the Twolegplace." Mud looked at him, surprised. "That's far." Flare flicked his ear.

"I can manage."

"Don't you want to take Stream with you?"  
"Take me where?" The taby she-cat appeared from the old tree, her blue eyes glowing with curiousity. "To the Twolegplace," replied Flare. "To hunt." Stream blinked.

"Isn't that mouse-brained?" she asked. "I mean, since all the noise..."  
"You mouse-brain," retorted Flare. "We're going _near _it." Stream shuffled her paws against the snow. "What will we find?"

"If we're lucky, we'll find a weak kittypet," Flare mewed sarcastically. "Ew! We're going to eat a _cat?_" Flare cuffed her ear, purring. "Let's go."

"Right now?"

"Of course! It'll be around nightfall when we get there."

Mud eyed him curiously. "You're going to be gone for one sunrise?"  
"Two," Flare corrected. "We're going to need to hunt extra since the nights will get colder." Mud blinked. "If it's getting colder, then we can't risk being away. The kits could freeze, or Mist-" Flare waved his tail for silence. "It'll be alright. Stream can teach you some of the herbs just in case one of the kits do get sick."

"I thought you were leaving right now."

"Stream..." The blue cat led Mud away, meowing importantly. Flare sighed and entered the old tree. Mist was sitting up, grooming herself. Flare purred. The kits had grown, and Flare knew in a few moons they would be old enough to explore.

"Hi, Flare," purred Mist. "Stream left in a big rush and I didn't have time to ask here where she was going."

"We're going to the Twolegplace to hunt." Mist's eyes widened. "W-what? Y-you can't! Not after what happened to Willow!" Flare stiffened. "We'll be alright." He quickly chomped down a squirrel then left the den, waving goodbye with his ginger tail.

Stream was waiting, a half-eaten mouse at her paws. "I couldn't finish eating," she admitted. "I'm too excited." Flare let out a _mrrow _of amusement. "Come on." Stream bounded away, meowing with excitement.

Mud flattened his ears. "So this is goodbye." Flare touched his nose to the tom's cheek. "We'll come back, I promise." Mud's whiskers touched Flare's cheek, and the ginger tom took a step back before bounding after Stream.

The blue tabby was already half way down the slope, and Flare yowled for her to stop. "Be careful," he warned. "We're in the Clan's territory, and they may not fancy us yowling like a couple of mouse brains."

Stream flattened her ears before taking step behind Flare, who walked happily. "This is so exciting!" squealed Stream, kicking up snow and waving her tail around.

"Shut up," Flare mewed. "It's getting dark, and there might be some cats around here who aren't so friendly." The cats found a tree that was easy to climb, and they quickly climbed it. Stream was in the highest branch, while Flare took a lower branch where he could see any danger. "Flare?"  
"Yeah?"

"Are you scared?"

"Out of my fur," he replied sarcastically. "Really!" Stream insisted.  
"A little bit," he admitted. "Now get some sleep. I don't know how far the Twolegplace is from here since it's so dark."

He listened for Stream's soft, even breaths that gave away she was asleep before he slowly drifted off into a dream full of monsters and Twoleg kits.


	4. Chapter 4: Dangerous

Flare awoke, and for a moment he didn't know where he was, so he flailed around. "W-" He felt himself falling, and grunted. He flailed around in the leaves he had fallen in. "Flare!"

Ears perked, he saw Stream looking at him, a fish in her jaws. "Hi," he muttered. "Are you okay?" she mewed, dropping the fish. "Yeah. Just had a little... problem." They both ate the fish before setting off. Warm winds buffeted their fur, yet the snow made their paws numb. "There it is!" The outline of the Twolegplace entered their view, and Flare shivered as memories pierced him like claws.

Stream had bounded away, claming she had scented a vole. Flare waited impatiently, scraping at the ground with a forepaw. He heard a loud hiss, and, claws unsheathed, bounded over. Stream was facing a plump, grey kittypet, who was crouched on a fence, lips drawn back in a snarl.  
Flare hid in the ferns, knowing that if Stream needed help she'd yowl.

"This is my place," the grey cat snarled. "You don't belong here!" Stream dropped her vole and glared at the tom. "I'm not staying here," she meowed hotly. "I'm just here to hunt." The grey kittypet hissed. "Get away from here!" He swatted at her, causing him to lose his balance and fall off the fence. He writhed around in the grass, squealing with anger and surprise

Stream easily pinned him down, yawning. She dug her claws in, and the kittypet squealed. Flare flattened his ears. Stream didn't follow the warrior code, since they were loners, and she could easily kill him with her eyes closed. "Stream," he mewed as he emerged from the ferns, "release him."

"Bu-"

"Realease him," he repeated, except more firmly. Stream sighed and got off of him. The kittypet scrambled to his paws, licking the blood off his fur. "You'll pay for that!" he snapped before clumsily climbing back on the fence.

"Whatever." Stream grabbed the vole, and trudged after Flare. "What is the matter with you?" growled Flare. "We can't afford any cat getting hurt." Stream dropped her catch and glared at Flare. "He was teasing me!" she growled. "What did you want me to do? Let that lazy kittypet get away with it?" She stomped off, growling to herself.

_This isn't like Stream, _he thought, watching her blue tabby tail disappear into the ice covered bracken. _Was it right to come here? We shouldn't have left Mist and Mud alone; espically in this weather. We should go home._

He padded after Stream, calling her name. "Stream! Stream!" He eventually saw her crouched in the snow, motionless.

"Stream.." She turned around, blue eyes glowing with sadness and fear. "F-Flare!" she gasped. "Mist and Mud are in danger!"


	5. Chapter 5: The Prophecy

"Danger?" he repeated. "What kind of danger?"

"I-I don't know!" she wailed. "This starry cat walked up to me and said that Mist and Mud are in danger and that we had to get home quickly!" Stream ran after Flare. They quickly picked up their catches and ran as fast as they could, wind streaming through their fur, snow kicked up in the air so much it was snowing.

The sun was slipping down the sky as the two cats reached the lake territories. "We ran," panted Flare, "all day." Their catch lay by them, bite marks deep in their necks, snow drenching cold fur, blood seeping out of their fatal wounds. "Not even a starving cat would eat that," growled Flare.

"We need to hurry." Stream grabbed the 'fresh' kill and they ran nimbly through the snow, their paws barely making a sound against the wet ground. They crashed through the ferns to see Mud guarding the oak tree. "Mud!" cried Stream, and she pounced happily on the brown tom.

"Hey!" cried the tom, collapsing under the weight. "What's up?"  
"StarClan came to me," Stream explained. "They said you'd be in danger." Mud snorted. "Danger? I could fight off a fox one pawed!" He swatted at the air.

"Speaking of fox," Mist mewed, stepping out of the oak den. "I smelled one near the lake when I went to get a drink." Flare stiffened. "Maybe we shouldn't leave the den so much," suggested the ginger tom.

"Yeah! We even have a little fresh-kill pile," added Stream, pushing forward her and Flare's catch forward. "Yeah. Two voles, a squirrel, and a fish," teased Mud.

"How did you carry all that anyway?" Mist asked, sniffing the prey curiously. "Well.. its hard to explain," muttered Flare. Mud flicked his ears. "It's getting dark. You should get inside," he added to Mist.

Mist grumbled, but entered the den. Stream bounded after her, carrying the sodden prey. Flare started to pad after them, but Mud stopped him.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Flare shook Mud's tail off of his shoulder. "I'm perfectly fine," he snapped. "Just because I went on a small journey doesn't mean I'm a weak kit!" He bounded into the den, ignoring Mud's hiss of anger.

He curled up in his nest, just as Mud trotted in. A draft of cold air sliced through their pelts, and he shivered.

"I'll have to fix that," Mud murmured. "Hold on, mouse-brain!" purred Mist, flicking her mate's nose with her tail. "You need to get that shoulder checked first." Flare noticed a scratch on his shoulder, with dry blood caking the wound. "It's nothing," Mud grunted, giving it a quick lick.

"Let Flare check it out first," insisted Mist. "He can do it in the morning," retorted Mud, "when we're all not asleep on our paws."

Stream was in her nest, sprawled out, a paw over her nose, and loud snores coming from her. Flare snorted and closed his eyes, drifting into a dream.

He was running through a meadow, wind running through his fur. Cats were shrieking, but he couldn't tell who. "Help!" The cat was shrieking. "Flare, help me!"  
"Willow?" Eyes wild, he swung his head around, trying to find his former mate, but he drunk in an unfamiliar scent that made him gag.

"Flare..." the voice hissed. "Flare!" He spun around to see a brown cat, eyes narrowed. "A great evil is coming. You must protect your family." Flare flattened his ears. "W-what? _Me_?"  
"Yes, you," replied the cat. "You and two of Mist's kits. Watch them carefully."

"What do I look for?"

"There is a prophecy," the cat went on as if he hadn't spoken. "_Three will go to snow covered peaks, and battle great peril._"

"How do I protect my family if I'm going to 'snow covered peaks?'" growled Flare. "That is it. You are going to the great peril." replied the cat. Flare's hackles raised. "And why should I believe you?"

The cat was very thin, and his ribs showed through his brown fur. Sharp, lean bones were outlined against fur, and pink-red scars were all over him. His unsheathed claws were ripped, and some were shorter or longer then others. Tufts of fur was missing from his pelt, and his tail was only a short stump. His face, though, was absoloutly hideous. Claw marks scoured over his left eye, and both of his ears were ripped. A big tuft of fur was missing from his cheeks, and his right eye was swollen pretty bad. The cat looked desperate to get a cat to believe his story.

"You must believe, young warrior," rasped the cat. "Fine," grumbled Flare. "What is your name?" The cat blinked. "I have not been called by my name in seasons," he grunted. "Tell me!" persisted the ginger tom. The old cat sighed. "I was once known as Stumpclaw. Then I became Stump."

Flare looked at Stump, his green eyes shining with curiousity. "So, Stump," he mewed, "why of all cats did you choose me?"

Stump's amber eye glowed. "You are a special cat, Flare." His shape started to fade. "Remember," Stump hissed in his ear. "Look at Mist's kits." Then he vanished, only leaving pawprints in the soil.

Flare immediatly woke up, his eyes greeting darkness. The outline of Mud, Stream, and Mist swung into view as he turned his head. _I'm glad I'm not blind, _he thought. He managed to make out Mist's kits, who were curled up near their mother's warm belly.

_What did Stump mean by watch them? _he asked himself. _I certainly can't stay here all day and stare at them. Maybe when they get older. _Flare thought that sounded good enough so he closed his eyes and fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6: Snow Foxes

Quarter moons passed. The days got colder and colder. Mist's kits grew and grew, and pretty sure they learned how to walk and talk. Flare always kept a eye on them, and Stream got really curious. Even when the hunting days were good, he wanted to watch the kits. When Stream brought it up with Flare, she was accused of being jealous. Since that day she ignored Flare, never wanting to hunt or talk with him.

Stream scrambled to her paws and shook the moss out of her blue fur. She yawned before suddenly feeling paws pummel her pelt. Night, Soil, and Sky were all pouncing on her, squealing happily. "Is this how you're going to teach the cat whom is going to teach you how to hunt?" she demanded, and the kits quickly dropped off of her.

"Let's go." She started to lead the kits away, but a ginger cat blocked the entrance. "Where are you going?" growled Flare, waving his tail in front of her snout. "I'm taking the kits-"

"She's teaching us how to hunt!" piped Sky, the brown she-kit. "No she's not," growled Flare. "Yesterday, Mud and I scented a fox somewhere, and you're not going out there with that beast wandering around."  
"But-"  
"I said no. If you really want to help, you can go and find some moss to fix Mist's bedding." He waved Stream away with his tail before leading the kits away.

Stream was steaming, her claws digging into the ground. How _dare _Flare treat her as if she was nothing more then a useless old cat!

_I'll show him, _she snarled to herself. She started to pad out of the den when she almost ran into Mud. "Whoa," he mewed, "be careful. Where are you going?"  
"Flare is making me find some moss to fix Mist's bedding," growled Stream. Mud snorted. "Flare just fixed her bedding when I went out to hunt." The large brown tom dropped a scrawny squirrel. "What a pity," he went on. "With the kit's getting bigger, we'll need to hunt more often." Stream stiffened. "What about the kits?"

"They'll be old enough," replied the tom. "Didn't you and Flare smell a fox somewhere?" asked Stream. Mud flicked his ear. "No. If I did, then I wouldn't have gone hunting by myself." Stream's blue eyes widened. Flare had lied about the fox!

"Are you alright?" asked Mud. "Of course." Stream padded out of the den and walked through the snow and disappeared into the ferns. She scented the air, trying to find some prey. The fresh scent of rabbit filled her nose, and she followed the scent, trying her best to not to make a sound. Anger and dissapointment filled her when she saw a scrawny rabbit scratching at the snow trying to find something to eat.

It would have to do. She prowled forward, her paws barely making a sound. Stream pounced, her paws hitting the rabbit on the back. It screeched and tried to get away, but the blue tabby quickly killed it when a swift bite on the neck.

"Good catch!" The she-cat spun around to see a black kit crouched under a bush. "Night!" she exclaimed. "Mist will have a fit that you've wandered away!"  
"I wanted to catch something," she mumbled, pointing with her tail at the snow. Narrowing her eyes she could see the vibrant colors of a butterfly's wings sticking out of the snow scraped over it.

"Let's go." Stream picked up the rabbit and nudged the tiny she-kit back in the direction of camp. "There you are!" exclaimed Mud. The brown tom had been sniffing frantically around, trying to find his missing young. "I went hunting," explained Night. "I caught a butterfly!" Mud purred. "You're going to make a wonderful hunter."

"What about us?" Soil and Sky erupted from the den, pouncing on their father. Night let out a squeal of happiness and jumped in, battering her father with tiny paws. "So," Mud mewed as he tried to keep tiny fangs from sinking into his fur, "what happened?"

"I was hunting a rabbit," replied Stream as she dropped the scrawny fresh-kill. "When I caught it, Night had squealed 'Good catch,' so I quickly brought her back before Mist tore up the whole forest looking for her kit." Mud purred.  
"That's the best excuse you've got?" Stream hadn't noticed that Flare had lumbered up to them, his green eyes flashing.

"What is that supposed to mean?" snarled Stream. "It's obvious," he retorted. "You took Night out for hunting when I told you not to. I swear to StarClan that she's taking Sky and Soil tomorrow!" Stream hissed at the false accusation. "You're just jealous of my relationship with the kits!"

"What relationship?" spat Stream. "Whenever I play or take the kits outside, you always take them away. And then you tell them about boring stuff like changing bedding and cleaning the den!" Her blue eyes flashed. "Flare, tell the truth! This isn't about jealousy or relationships! This is about something else!"

Flare's pelt bristled, but then he sighed. "There is a prophecy."


	7. Chapter 7: Tigerheart

"That's the most mouse-brained thing I've ever heard!" exlaimed Mud when Flare had finished explaining. "We should tell Mist," insisted Flare. "No!" growled Mud. "Mist wants her kits to be normal; we don't even know if this prophecy concerns my kits."  
"But Stump told me-" Flare started to protest, but bushes rattled and two cats stepped out.

"Well, well, well," the leading cat purred, "you were right, Leopardpaw. ThunderClan _is _letting rogues stay on their territory." Mud growled, his pelt bristling. "What do you want? By your scent, I can tell that you aren't ThunderClan."

The broad shouldered tom snorted and flicked his tail. "We're ShadowClan. We're only here to take a few squirrels and then we'll leave." Flare bristled. For some reason, he felt loyal to ThunderClan, and wanted to defend the cats' prey.

"Over my dead body," he found himtself spitting. The tom snorted and flicked his tail. "Attack!" Mud threw himself at the broad shouldered tom, and they fell into a heap of fur and claws.

The small apprentice flung himself and Flare, and he was surprised at the small tom's strength. He grit his teeth as claws sliced through the side of his pelt, and he quickly fixed his teeth in the tabby's shoulder.

Howling in pain, the apprentice tried to pull himself free, but Flare grabbed his tail and pulled him back. _I don't have to follow the warrior code, _he thought darkly as he smashed his paws against the smaller tom's back.

A shriek pierced the air. Turning his head, he saw a black tom scrambling out of the nursery, Soil clamped firmly in his jaws. The kit was wailing and trying to pull himself free. Claw marks were on the black tom's nose, and Flare guessed that the kit had put up quite a fight.

Snarling, Flare pounced on the tom and clawed the side of his flank, spitting in the tom's face. "Coward!" he spat as he raked his claws along his cheek. Soil had wretched himself free and was tumbling towards the den. "Attack kits! What kind of fox-hearted cat are you?"

The golden tom darted forward and tried to grab Soil, but a blur of blue knocked him over. The two cats tumbled through the snow, and Flare heard Stream's triumphant yowl. A choked cry made Flare freeze, and he turned his head to see that the giant tabby had pinned down Mud.

The brown cat was squirming in the large tom's grasp. Claw marks were raked down the side of his pelt, and there was a bad wound on the side of his neck, but the tom refused to get up. "Fool," growled the giant tom. "You're cockiness will get you killed."

"I'll die to save my kits!" spat Mud, flailing his paws in the air. "Tigerheart," cried the golden tom, "we should go. It's not worth it! Anyway, Blackstar sent us to hunt, not steal kits." Tigerheart snorted. "Blackstar could use some more warriors." His mew was cut off with a painful choke. Mud had raked the claws on his hind paws against Tigerheart's belly.

Blood flowed from the wound, and he collapsed beside Mud, panting. "Tigerheart!" The golden apprentice pushed Stream off of him and darted over to help his Clanmate. The black tom shuffled to the two cats. Moving as one, the cats picked up Tigerheart and started to pad away.

The golden tom turned his head around and glared at the cats with hatred burning in them. "You'll pay for this!" They disappeared into the snow colored forest. Flare shivered. The forest seemed colder.

"Flare!" Shaken from his thoughts, he rushed over to Mud. The tom was sprawled on his side, blood pooling from his wounds. He pressed snow the wound on his neck, his tail flicked with anxiety. "Will he be okay?" demanded Stream. "Give me more snow and shut up," snapped Flare.

Quickly, the blue she-cat handed him some more snow. Flare pressed the snow against the wounds, but the white snow turned red, and his paws were beginning to go numb, and dots of blood dotted his toes.

"He's in the paws of StarClan now." A wail filled his ears, and he saw Mist stumbling towards them, carrrying a limp Soil. "There's a wound on his face that won't stop bleeding," she wailed, dropping the brown tom by Flare's paws.

Flare lapped at the wound, and flinched at the taste of blood. He pressed snow against it, then sniffed the cut carefully. "That tom's claws were dirty," he growled. "So?" demanded Mist. "The wound is infected." Mist stiffened. "What will happen?"  
"I don't know," he admitted. "Sandstorm didn't give me enough herbs to treat infected wounds."

Mist let out a whimper and touched her nose to the kit. Flare did that too, until he recoiled when the kit let out a dry cough. "What?" Mist demanded. Flare gulped before meowing, "Soil has greencough."


	8. Chapter 8: Meltdown

Days past, and Soil got better. He was a little fidgety though, and normally got in trouble. The bad news came when Mud shouldered himself inside of the den. Flare was giving Soil some catnip, and the small brown tom was accepting it without complaining.  
"I have bad news," the brown tom meowed. Flare nudged Soil to go and play with his Littermates before turning to Mud. "What's wrong?" he demanded. "Did you get attacked?"

A long pink scar was on Mud's side and neck where he had gotten clawed by Tigerheart. "No," growled Mud. "The snow is starting to melt-"  
"That's wonderful!" Flare interrupted. "Why is it bad news?"  
"Let me finish!" snapped Mud, scraping at the sandy ground and causing Stream and Mist to glance at them. The brown cat sighed before continuing his report.

"The snow has melted and entered the lake. It's rising; the kits won't be able to climb out of the way if it floods over." A squeak filled their ears, and they turned to see Soil and Skye fighting. Night had broken away from the scuffle and was glaring at Mud.

"I am not a kit!" she mewed. "I'm a warrior!" She grunted as paws hit her side and she was immediatly thrown back into the mock fight.

Night was pushed out again, and when she tried to jump back in, Sky and Soil glared at her. "You can't play with us," mewed Sky. "Why?" cried Night. "Because you're too small!" retorted Soil. "Am not!" As she spoke, she thrust herself forward and crashed into Soil.

They were both old enough to be apprentices; they were no longer kits. Their scuffles could turn into actual fights with teeth and claws.

Flare stepped forward, trying to prevent the fight, but Mud flicked his tail across Flare's chest. "Come," mewed the older tom. "We must go and check the river."

As they stepped outside and onto the snow, Flare's paws sunk through the snow. He let out a hiss of alarm and lifted up a paw, covered with snow.

"Disgusting!" he growled as he leaped out of the snow, just to fall through again. Mud purred with amusement. "We're not even three fox lengths from our den and you're already tired."

"Am not!" Flare snapped, then suddenly realized he sounded like a kit. He recoiled and quickly licked his damp chest fur. "Come on." Flare sighed with relief.

The snow was firm, with ice patches here and there. "What other bad news was there?" asked Flare, flicking a snowflake off the tip of his whiskers.

"Those stupid Clan cats," spat Mud, clawing at the snow. "They said that we could only have the territory surrounding our den, and we only have hunting rights five fox-lengths around our den!" Flare thought for a moment. "Are we allowed to explore this far?" he asked.

"Probably not. But I don't care!" he added, speeding up. Flare padded after his denmate. "Oh, StarClan!"

The lake _had _risen. Flare was glad that the ground stuck up where their paws were. The lake was lapping hungrily at the bottom, and Flare could've sworn it was letting out frustrated grunts. Suddenly his eyes widened.

"What?" Mud demanded. Flare's paws suddenly slid out from under him. "The snow!" he yowled, paws scrambling against the melting ground. "It's going into the lake! We have to get Mist, Stream and the kits to safety!"  
"But how?" Mud growled. "By the time we get there, the lake will be chasing us."

"Then we'll have to hurry." Flare ran after Mud, barely dodging the snow he kicked up. "Mist!" Mud screeched. "Mist!"

The black she-cat's head popped out of the den's entrance. "Yes?" she mewed. "The lake!' gasped Flare, collapsing on the melting snow. "It's flooding over the banks. We must get the kits to safety!" Mist bristled, then disappeared back into the den.

Flare sniffed the air; the sharp scent of water filled his nose, and he turned to see water gushing through the forest. It bubbled hungrily and reached out to grab the cats.

"Hurry!" screeched Flare. Stream burst from the den; she was holding Sky, who was wriggling, and Night was riding on her back. "Up the tree!" Stream nodded and leaped onto the bark, gripping it with thorn sharp claws. Night squeaked, and Flare's eyes widened as he saw the black kit starting to slip from Stream's shoulders.

The water had reached the cats. It was only paw deep, but they didn't want to take any chances. Flare dived forward and grabbed Night before tossing her up to Stream, who had stuck out her tail. Night grabbed it with her claws and clawed up Stream's pelt to where the blue she-cat licked the kit all over.

Mist bounded out of the nursery. Her eyes were wide with fear. "I can't find Soil!" she wailed. "What if he followed you to the lake and fell in?" Mud bunched his muscles, prepared to leap into the water, but Flare stopped him.

"I'll go," he growled. "If I die-"  
"Don't say that!" Mud nuzzled Flare's ear before dismissing him with the flick of his tail. "Go now before it's too late." Flare darted away, his paws splashing through the water. He felt snow and ice pricking his pads, and soon the water was belly-deep. He gasped as a wave tugged at his ginger fur and nearly carried him off his paws.

A big chunk of ice was floating beside him, so he quickly climbed on it. Wind cut through his fur and he shivered. Suddenly, eerie wailing filled his ears. Without thinking, Flare pounced off the ice and landed clumsily on land. The grass was slimy and cold. He scrambled to his paws, only to fall down again.

"So, ThunderClan thinks that the rogues can go where they please?" Flare felt his heart drop into his belly. _Tigerheart!_ A frightened mewl filled his ears. _Soil! _Flare ran forward, even though he slipped a lot.

His eyes widened when he saw Tigerheart crouched over Soil. The brown kit was shivering, with bite marks on his ears and body. Flare let out a loud roar of anger as Tigerheart lifted up his paw to smack the kit again. The tom turned around, and, eyes wide, yowled with terror when Flare crashed into him.

Flare battered at the tom's belly, snarling with anger. "Attacking kits?" he spat as he kicked Tigerheart away. The Clan cat skidded on the slimy grass, still dazed from the surprise attack. "I didn't know ShadowClan would go that low." Snarling, he leaped at Tigerheart. A paw smacked the side of his face and he felt himself hit the slimy ground hard. He looked up to see amber eyes glowing with hatred.

"ShadowClan is weak!" he spat. "You broke the warrior code! You-" Claws raked his shoulder and he yowled. Rolling over, he tried to get to his paws, but something butted into to him and he started rolling again. Paws hit at him and he was forced to turn over, but he exposed his soft belly, and he yowled in agony and claws battered at his stomach.

"ShadowClan is not weak!" Tigerheart snarled. Teeth dug into his shoulder and he could feel the ground shift. Fear pierced his belly as he realized he was rolling down a hill. Water filled his nose, and he quickly turned and started to claw his way up, claws slipping through the slimy ground.

A shadow loomed over him and he looked up to see Tigerheart looking at him, eyes narrowed. The giant brown tabby crouched down, and Flare hissed in pain as claws dug into his paws. The tom leaned over and whispered in his ear, his voice sickly sweet.

"You should have never came here, rogue," he whispered. "Now you can die." Flare grit his teeth and quickly tore his paws away, leaving tufts of ginger fur on the tom's sharp claws. "If I go too," he hissed. "Then you're going with me!"

With every ounce of strength, he grabbed Tigerheart and pulled. Taken by surprise, the tom let out a yowl full of fear and fury and squirmed in Flare's grasp. The tom's rolled down the hill and, with a loud splash, fell in the flooding lake.

He released Tigerheart and watched the current grab him. The tom was squirming around, his amber eyes wide. Flare watched until he couldn't see the amber eyes full of hatred anymore. His gaze grew blurried, and he silently sighed and let the current carry him away.

Flare's eyes closed.

_Take me, StarClan. Take me._


End file.
